


You, Painted Pink and Blue

by ConvenientAlias



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Romance Novel, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, F/F, One Night Stands, which might lead to more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 17:24:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13792527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvenientAlias/pseuds/ConvenientAlias
Summary: Riley DJs an event for a lot of rich people in Seoul, and hooks up with a gorgeous wallflower. Sun doesn't know why she suddenly wants to fuck a complete stranger and a foreigner but she's inclined to follow the impulse wherever it leads.





	You, Painted Pink and Blue

It’s a good question, really, how Riley ends up in Korea. She wanders there in the same haze she wandered over to the UK. Granted it takes considerably more money and effort to go to Seoul than to London but it doesn’t matter. People in Seoul largely speak Korean but enough speak English that she can get along. Music, well played, has no language.

This is the most prestigious event Riley has hosted in a while. Of course it’s been a long time since she’s done a real concert—she’s only done a couple in Seoul—but in a way this is more high class than a concert. She’s the DJ for an event hosted by an elite group of businessmen and businesswomen. She’ll be paid a ridiculous amount of money just to keep the music going and perhaps to mingle a little bit with people who have heard of her through the niche that likes to follow DJs. These are people who can afford her talents, but she’s antsy. She does events less often than concerts, and never before an event like this one.

The location is gorgeous. Floor covered in velvety rug, tall ceiling that still has excellent acoustics, vases full of palms and ferns, and hundreds of guests wandering the floor, all wearing suits and dresses Riley could never afford.

She pictures her dad by her side. He would laugh. This is his usual crowd, when he plays classical piano, lots of rich people and elites. He would be completely unmoved. It doesn’t steady her. Instead, she has to force herself to focus on the music and ignore the crowd. She pumps the beats with only a little more reserve than at a concert of her own—this is a party and she makes it a party, it’s what they hired her for. If they don’t like her music they can go to the next room over. But lots of people stay in the room where she plays, and they dance and they dance and they dance.

Riley lets the music carry her away. She only glances at the crowd from time to time in a vague manner. No one really catches her interest except for one particular woman, who is wearing a black dress with a large choker, shoulders exposed. She is not dancing but stands off to the side of the crowd, looking over them all. Riley doesn’t usually have a fondness for wallflowers but something about the woman speaks to her. _Are you lonely?_ she thinks. And pushes the thought away. She is projecting her own desolation, and tonight she would rather be wild with music than lonely.

The night ends as all nights do. Riley packs up her things. As she does so, the woman approaches her. She says something in Korean, then, when Riley does not understand, says in English, “You put on quite a show.”

Riley gives her a skeptical look. Out of all the crowd, she cannot say this woman seemed to appreciate her show that much. But she says, “Thanks for having me.” Anyone staying this late must be one of the coordinators.

The woman waits by Riley’s side while she packs up, then walks with her towards the door. “Your music is wild.”

“Yes,” Riley says, “I suppose so.”

“And yet at the same time you clearly know what you are doing,” the woman says. “You control it.” She tilts her head. “How can I describe to you in English how it made me feel?”

They step out the door. The woman holds the door for Riley. Riley shrugs. “I don’t know. Bored?” She laughs a little.

“How do I put this…” The woman turns and looks straight at Riley, deadpan. “It was sexy.”

Riley blinks.

She’s used to being hit on. Men at her concerts hit on her all the time. Women, too, assuming correctly that her wild style and her dyed hair must mean she’s at least a little bi. At a formal event like this, though, she wasn’t expecting anything, and certainly nothing this bold from a woman who looks so serious and reserved.

Easy enough to reject her. Easy to send her away with a shy acceptance of the compliment and then a rebuffal. The woman steps closer. Her bare shoulders lead down to wiry, muscular arms. Riley swallows. She looks the woman in the eye and smiles a little nervously. “Was it?”

When the woman hesitates, she touches the woman’s waist. “Did you have a lot to drink?” God forbid this isn’t her mistaking someone’s drunk ramblings for an actual seduction attempt.

The woman shakes her head. “I didn’t drink much at all.” She touches Riley’s cheek and her hand is warm and callused. Unexpected, these calluses on a woman like her. “Would you like to go back to my place?”

“There’s a hotel right across the street,” Riley says. “Why should we wait?”

* * *

 

Sun has an actual apartment in the city, not just a hotel. She feels a little foolish following Riley Blue to the love motel, even if they are planning on using it for its intended purpose. But she follows her obediently. She’s been watching Riley all night, and she doesn’t feel like putting up an argument when this is the fastest way into bed with the woman.

The lights in the motel are pink and blue, psychedelic. They are supposed to be sensual and surreal. Sun would usually be not so fond of them but Riley Blue is meant to be cast in such lighting, she feels—she’s been playing under disco lights all night. It turns her hair all sorts of colors, while out on the street for just a moment Sun could see that it was actually bleached snow white.

What sort of an exotic fish is she? Sun usually sticks to partners she knows or one night stands from Club Labris. Riley is similar to them in fashion but her whiteness, her foreignness makes her different at the same time. And there is also a melancholy feeling to her that is different from Riley’s usual.

She embraces different. Lately she has been struck with a sort of ennui, a mix of loneliness and boredom. She knows logically fucking someone isn’t enough to get her out of a rut but tonight she will delude herself into believing.

She takes out a cigarette and lights it. Riley takes out her own and lights it up, but the scent is of weed, not tobacco like Sun’s. The scents intermingle. Sun wonders if secondhand smoke will get her high, but she already feels high enough off Riley’s presence. She takes off her shoes, high heels that have been torturing her all night. Her feet are left almost bare but still in stockings. She looks over to find Riley eyeing her as she puffs at her smoke.

“Will you take off your shirt?” she asks, mouth dry. It is a black piece with a low neckline, the last button where a bra would open up, but Riley’s small breasts don’t show any cleavage. It has been bothering her all night.

Riley lifts an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you like to do that?”

Sun does.

She unbuttons the shirt slowly, fingers trailing over Riley’s stomach until Riley bats them away with a small giggle and slips the shirt off her shoulders. She has a soft body even though she’s thin. In here it is lit with pink and blue—out on the streets, Sun pictures it as alabaster.

She cautiously reaches forward and unzips Riley’s black jeans. Riley lets her pull the pants down, revealing more and more leg, and then steps out. She is wearing a pink (probably? Hard to tell in this light) bra with a small lace fringe, and black silk panties. Sun pulls her close and puts a hand on her butt, and Riley makes a little “uh” noise and reaches around Sun to work at Sun’s zipper. The position is inconvenient but she unzips the dress down Sun’s back and over her hips, and then peels it off Sun, leaving Sun as unclothed as she is except for her long stockings.

“You are beautiful, Riley Blue,” Sun says. She is not sure if she says it because it feels required or because it is true—either way the words come out automatically. Riley tucks her hair behind her ears.

“What do you want to do?” she asks.

“I want to touch you,” Sun says. She puts both hands on Riley’s waist, soft and careful. “May I kiss you?”

Riley kisses her first, and her mouth tastes of marijuana, sweet and heady. Sun wonders if Riley likes the husky taste of cigarettes from her own lips. She plays her tongue around Riley’s mouth, twisting her head to get a better angle. Slowly, she lifts a hand to Riley’s bra and worms her hand under the wire and cloth to squeeze Riley’s breast. The nipple is hard against her palm.

Riley moans. She says something against Sun’s lips in a language that is neither English nor Korean. Then she says in English, “More”, only detaching her lips from Sun’s for a moment to pronounce the word.

Sun gives her more. The bra is strapless, and it is a simple matter to unlatch it in the back and let it drop onto her own feet. She kicks it away and massages Riley’s breasts with both her hands. Riley moans. Her own hands are cemented to the back of Sun’s neck, holding their kiss in place, holding the world together.

Then she reaches down and pulls at Sun’s stockings, at the waist of them where they sit over her underwear. In working them loose she is groping at Sun’s butt, and Sun squirms, pulling out of the kiss to help her. When it is gone she returns to her attack on Riley’s breasts, this time lowering her mouth to one of her nipples. It’s vengeance for Riley groping her butt—she’s getting more aroused with every second, wet in her underpants, and if Riley can do this to her she wants Riley to want it twice as bad. She thinks she’s succeeding because Riley is beginning to buck her hips towards Sun, who is not quite close enough to her to give her any friction because of the angle. She stands up straight and says, “Do you want me?”

“Fuck me,” Riley rasps. Her voice has all the smoke of the room concentrated in it. Sun smiles.

There is a bed but she ignores it. Instead, she pulls Riley over to the wall and pushes her against it so her spine is locked in place. She’s more used to this kind of sex, born of having to hide her affairs in bathrooms and closets and storage rooms, than to having a lover in bed. It feels stolen and for that reason she has always loved it. It feels like escape from the normal, escape from both comfort and discomfort into a world of fierce sensuality. She puts one hand on Riley’s shoulder to pin her in place and sneaks another into Riley’s underwear, which is sopped with arousal. She strokes once, lightly, and looks at how Riley’s eyes are dilated in the pink and blue light.

“Beg me for it,” she says.

Riley does. And she begs so prettily. And she cannot seem to hold still and let Sun take care of her, although she likes it. She clutches at Sun’s back, raking even with well-trimmed fingernails, and presses her mouth into Sun’s neck, sucking and biting with a force that makes Sun’s pumps at her cunt all the more frantic. She wishes she had a couple more hands to touch herself with because she’s beginning to go crazy. When Riley comes she falls back onto the wall with a little cry, barely a noise at all, more of a gasp. She does not let go of Sun but pulls her back with her, clutches at her so hard it hurts. Sun wonders how many marks this will leave, which of them she will have to cover up with foundation. She does not mind it.

When a moment has passed Riley murmurs something (Sun can’t quite catch it) and then pulls Sun’s underwear down. Sun is willing to step out of it. Then Riley falls to her knees as naturally as if only Sun’s hand on her shoulder had been keeping her up in the first place, as if she is doing no more than following the call of gravity. She tangles her hands in Sun’s bush for a moment before sticking her head up close and personal and going at Sun with lip and tongue, and sometimes even a light touch of teeth though never anything menacing. Sun tries her best to hold still, steadying herself with hands on Riley’s shoulders. She knows she is whimpering, just a little. That she cannot help.

Most of the night passes in this fashion. They use the bed, eventually, and they even fall asleep in it. But Sun’s alarm is set for an early hour. Function tonight or no, she still has to get up to go to work.

* * *

 

Riley is woken up by the sound of ringing. It has been ages since she had a cell phone alarm like that—these days it plays a classic rock song which she switches up on a regular basis in order to keep herself from sleeping through it. She turns in bed to see a naked woman climbing out. The woman from last night. She is stooping to the floor to pick up the dress Riley had discarded from her and oh, that back is familiar. It is covered in little scratches now and Riley can’t help but feel lazily smug about it.

“I have to go,” the woman says. She has paused to stretch stockings back over her legs, which deserve so much more than to be imprisoned in this manner. They deserve a million kisses, which Riley, even half asleep, is thirsty to give them.

“All right,” Riley says. She is too sleepy to tell the woman to stay, besides which she doesn’t want to keep her from work. Some people have actual nine to five jobs, after all, though it has been a long time since Riley worked that regularly. “May I see you again?”

The woman cocks her head. Her hair is disheveled. _I did that_ , Riley thinks again, gleeful. _Me me me._

“Do you want to see me again?”

“Yes,” Riley says, “I think I would.”

The woman retrieves a purse from an abandoned corner of the tiny room. She takes out a small pad of paper and pen (the woman is terribly prepared) and writes on the pad. She rips out the paper and places it on the bedside table. “There is my number.”

“Thank you.”

Riley almost forgets to ask before the woman leaves because really she is very sleepy and last night she was too horny to think about it either. “May I have your name?”

The woman blinks, then laughs a little. “Sun Bak.”

Simple. Lovely.

Later in the day Riley googles the name. This is how she learns that she had sex with the heiress to a multimillion dollar company. She’s had sex with some big names before but this might be her crowning achievement.

It doesn’t make her hesitate to text Sun. Although she does wonder whether there can be any future between her and a woman so different from her, she is not sure she likes thinking about the future anyway. The future does not have her husband and her daughter in it, and she feels guilty whenever she makes plans beyond the next couple months.

She makes plans to meet up with Sun in a few days. That, she thinks, is far enough ahead for now.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic partly because I love the ides of Sun femslash (though I haven't written any until now), partly for the trope bingo challenge of AU: Romance Novel. The kinds of romance novels I read have millionaire sapphics falling for relatively poor strangers. So there you have it.  
> I'd love to hear from you in the comments!


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